


Heartbeat

by em_gray



Series: AU fic challenge [5]
Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Gore, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ish?? - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic Realism, Pre-Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, as in the meaning there's weird shit happening and no one really comments on it, honestly I don't even know what this one is let's be real, hope I'm not forgetting to tag anything, ish?, tagging just to be safe, we're pulling out the big guns for this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray
Summary: I realize something is amiss when my heartbeat starts haunting me.
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Series: AU fic challenge [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640491
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20
Collections: TGGTVAV AU Challenge Fics





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dead Head Walking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958593) by [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope). 



> here we are again, weirder and more fucked-up than ever!  
> jk jk. anyway, this is my fifth fic in the au challenge, and for this one I went with the body horror or just general angst from pinstripedJackalope's fic Dead Head Walking. Uhh. Yeah. Hope you enjoy!

I realize something is amiss when my heartbeat starts haunting me.

I’m lying curled up on my bed, and it’s ringing in my ears, the chased  _ thump-thump-thump _ , throbbing in symphony with the pain pulsing through me. I’ve still got my hands covering my face. I don’t know if I can ever put them down again. I’m terrified to move, terrified to look, terrified to  _ think _ . All I can do is listen to my heartbeat through the blood pulsing in my head, waiting for it to slow down again, waiting for the ache to fade.

It doesn’t.

It takes me a good few hours - or years - to stir. Slowly, I lower my hands, exposing the wet trails on my cheeks to the cold air. The feeling makes me wince. I put a palm to my chest, to the racing of my heart, that’s lashing out like it’s a wild beast encaged. I feel it trying to get a hold of my fingertips with each pulsation, as if it’s trying to stick to them through my ribs and skin.  _ This isn’t normal. _ Dread creeps up to me. Blindly, I undo a few buttons on my shirt, and look down.

I jump back and gasp.

The central part of my chest has gone translucent. The skin there has become thin as a membrane, and I remove my hand at once, fearing I might damage it. It looks so fragile. Underneath, I can see a dark, pulsing shape, shadowed by my ribcage. All of it emits a faint, nauseating light.

_ My heart. _

I don’t know what’s going on. My heartbeat starts accelerating under my eyes and I rapidly close my shirt again, hands fumbling at the buttons, failing to get a grip. Instead, I tumble out of bed, spot an item of clothing on a chair - one of Percy’s sweaters - and put it on. It’s made from thick fabric, and it’s dark, and when I briefly surrender my frantic scrambling to get a new view on the situation, I see that the light has dimmed. The sound has been muffled, too, but it’s still there, and I throw open my wardrobe to find something to put over it. I find a hoodie and put it on, ignoring the painful stabs going through my nervous system all the while.

When I’ve succeeded at that, the sound is barely a whisper - present, but ignorable. It’s light in my head. I grab onto the back of the chair, taking a few deep breaths and trying to come to my senses.

_ What’s happening to me? _

_ What’s happening to me? _

_ What’s happening to me? _

I’m interrupted by a sound, so sudden that I start and yelp, hands flying to my head. My heartbeat briefly spikes. I blink, looking around. My eyes fall upon the lit screen of my phone, lying upon my nightstand.

_ A text _ . I’m staring at it from across the room for a while as reality slowly seeps back to me.  _ A text. Someone texted me. I should walk over there and see who it is. _

It takes me a good five minutes to convince my legs to start moving. I pick up the object and sit down on the bed.  _ It’s Percy _ , I realize, and with that comes the first feeling of genuine calmness I’ve experienced in hours.  _ It’s Percy _ , I repeat to myself, as I double-tap the notification.

I find that he has sent me not one, not two, but a dozen texts, starting somewhere in the morning. (It’s past noon, I realize, with a look at the clock.) I remember that I might’ve hinted my father might be rather ill-tempered after my actions of the night previous, and as it would seem, Percy has been growing increasingly worried.

I smile without being able to help it, and it sets off a series of dull pains shooting throughout my face, even going as far as down my neck. I carefully let myself fall back and press dial, before putting the phone on speaker and letting it fall down beside me.

It rings a grand total of two times before there’s a  _ click _ .

“ _ Monty? _ ”

“Yes, darling?” My voice is raw and choked, and I realize my mistake at once. I cough to cover it up. “What is it?”

There’s a disbelieving scoff on the other side, then a few seconds of silence. “ _ I thought… _ ” he tries, then seems to decide to keep his thoughts to himself. “ _ Are you all right? _ ”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The lie rolls out of me with ease. I’ve got one hand placed upon my chest. Even through the layers of clothing, I can still feel the faint thumping.

“ _ I… Well, you mentioned that your father… and you didn’t respond for a few hours, so… _ ”

“Yeah, me and the old man had a chat.”

He goes quiet, and I have a few moments to regret saying that. “ _ Do you want me to come over? _ ” he eventually asks.

I shake my head, realize he can’t see that, and say: “No need. I’ll just see you at school tomorrow, all right?”

I can almost see him biting his lip, caught in dilemma. “... _ Are you sure? You know I- _ ”

“I know, I know, darling, but there’s nothing to worry about.” There’s plenty to worry about, but perhaps, if I actively  _ refuse _ to do that, maybe the worrisome things will lay low or go away entirely. Plus, I’ve no desire to let him see me in a state like this.

Tomorrow still leaves some space for me to tidy things up, pull myself together.

“...All right, then,” he says reluctantly. “See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” I say, putting zero effort into making it sound believable before hanging up.

That leaves me in an empty room, with nothing to keep me company but the relentless beating of my heart.

The beating, beating, beating.

I sleep in those same layers of clothing. When I go to school, I only exchange the hoodie for a jacket, and wake up early to cover up the bruises on my face. It takes great effort: the pain from the day before has properly settled into my bones, making every movement a Herculean task. I manage to make it, and I only miss the first hour.

Percy looks grim when I arrive, though. I flash him a smile, dimples employed, and try not to wince. “Good morning, darling.”

He doesn’t look too cheered up. “Where have you been?”

“At home?”

He scoffs, then finds himself at a loss of what to say. Instead he studies me, looking down with his brows furrowed - an expression that I find adorable - and I don’t realize he’s raised his hand until it touches my face. Instinctively, I jump back, and I can only stop my hands when they’re at the height of my shoulders. Percy’s eyes widen, and I can feel my face heating up.

We stand like that for a moment, staring at each other, an island in a stream of people moving by in every direction, until I ruffle my hair and straighten my back. “English, right? I wouldn’t want to miss another class.” though I could not care less about my education. I start walking, not sure if I want Percy to follow. He does, after a moment, and we both walk beside each other in silence.

I think I manage to keep myself composed for the following week pretty well, actually. I attend most of my classes, manage to get on speaking terms with Percy again, bicker with Felicity over the breakfast table, avoid my Father like the plague and stick to my layers of sweaters.

“I don’t want to catch a cold,” I say, upon questioned by my sister.

“It’s May,” she says, to which I don’t reply.

The muffled beating sound is hardest to ignore at nights, a problem I find solvable by drinking.

I spend my Friday night at a bar, consuming enough alcohol to put me in the best mood I’ve been all week. My memory skips from Percy suggesting we go home to me being in a tight room with a very pretty girl. It’s hot, and the both of us are stripping off our own and each other’s clothes fast. I’ve entered a pleasant state of obliviousness, one I’m harshly pulled from when the girl suddenly shrieks. It takes me a moment to understand what’s going on.

I’m down to my shirt, which is hanging open, and she’s staring at my chest. I look down.

The spot has, if possible, turned even uglier. It’s expanded, and the transparency of my skin now resembles more of an open wound. Its edges are ragged and blackened, as if a fire has singed its way through, leaving my heart and ribcage exposed. The beating sound seems to fill up the room. Not only the light has gotten brighter, but it’s now accompanied by the disgusting smell of rotten flesh.

The girl pushes past me and storms out.

Then I’m suddenly dressed again, searching the bar for Percy but not finding him. I return home, alone.

There, it takes me another bottle to work up the courage to look again. I take off my jacket, then, fifteen minutes later, the sweater, and then I’m already so confronted with the damage there’s no point in loitering. I take off my shirt, throw it on the pile in the corner, and start with the bandages I’ve found in the bathroom. I wrap it around, trying to cover everything, and when I succeed, I put another roll around it, and then another for good measure.

I wash my hands, then my face. The make-up smudges and I’m confronted with the fading bruises. I look away.

After putting on a fresh shirt and, for some reason, Percy’s sweater again, I lie down on the bed and am out the second my head hits the pillow.

The following morning, I apologize to Percy for ditching him through text. When he doesn’t reply, I call him, and repeat myself.

“It’s all right,” he says in a weary voice. “I’m used to it.”

That makes my already fragile temper spike, and I hang up.

When I get so lonely that bothering Felicity seems to be my only remaining option, I take my car and drive over to Percy’s. He doesn’t seem too happy to see me, doorknob in his hand, as I smile broadly but remorsefully at him from the doorstep. But he lets me in, lets me offer my apology again and promise not to leave him behind in the future. He doesn’t seem to buy it, but he’s persuaded, and my Saturday ends up  _ not _ being spent alone.

We’re watching a movie together on his couch, and I’m starting to relax for the first time this week. I let my head fall onto his shoulder. His hand comes to lift my chin, then trail along the healing bruises across my jawline. I find pity in his eyes, and it makes me want to run.

“I wish I could do something,” he says, voice a sigh.

I shrug. “I can handle it. It’s not so bad.”

He bites his lip. Then he lets go of my face and turns back to the tv, though neither of us are still watching. “What are you planning for next year?” he asks.

That question makes me feel like I’m standing on a ledge above the abyss, and I go light-headed for a second. “I’m sure my Father has all of that planned out for me.”

“But what do  _ you _ want?”

I try to speak, but my breath catches. “I don’t know,” I say, as lightly as I can muster. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.” Now he fully turns toward me, and I’m forced to sit up not to fall into his lap (which doesn’t sound like such a terrible alternative). “Monty, I…” His eyes shift left and right. “It kills me to think of… you, being stuck there.”

“I’m not stuck,” I say, voice hollow. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He looks at me in disbelief, shaking his head slightly. His voice sounds pitiful. “Monty, please.”

I sit back, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not as if I’ve got any other options.”

“Come live with me.”

It catches us both off guard. I look at him, and he’s looking as terrified as I’m feeling. But he swallows, and carries on. “I’m not sure how we’d manage, but… I’d be willing to try. For you.”

“I can’t,” I say. My heart is beating fast. “And-and why would you even want that? What’s in it for you?”

“Does there have to be something in it for me?”

“Right. Sorry, Saint Perce.”

He huffs, and a small smile forms on his lips. It’s hard to keep my eyes off it. He seems to choose his words very carefully. “I think the most important person to me in the world would be happier. That’s worth a lot. And…” His eyes flit down to my mouth, so brief I wonder if I imagined it. “...well, you never know.”

All at once, the tension in the room is tangible. I don’t even hear the tv anymore. We’re caught in each other’s gaze, and like quicksand, every move we make seems to pull us in deeper. I forget how to breathe. We’re moving closer, seemingly millimeters at a time, until he places his hand on the back of my head and kisses me.

I’ve pictured this moment a million times, in a million different places, in a million different situations. Sometimes it’s Percy kissing me, sometimes it’s me kissing Percy. The only thing that always stays the same is how amazing it feels. But even the best, most perfect versions of it all turn to smoke in comparison to this. I’ve never thought of the small noise he’d make when I’d kiss him back, or how ragged his breathing would become, or how hungry his touch could be. He’s got his legs on either side of my lap before I know what’s happening, pushing me back into the cushioning as I’m trying to sink away into this moment while simultaneously memorizing every detail and enjoy it as much as humanly possible - the latter turning out not so difficult.

When I’ve got my hands under his shirt and his lips start making their way down my neck, I realize this is the longest I haven’t thought about my little heart problem since it started.

And with that, of course, my attention is diverted to the aforementioned problem.

And with that comes the conversation that came before this.  _ Percy is worried about you _ , a voice in my head says.  _ Percy wants to convince you to come live with him. He knows you like him. _

I feel like a bucket of ice is being dropped over top of me.

My hands come to a halt. Percy doesn’t seem to notice, though, just starts kissing my collar bone and I realize that he’s very close to a momentarily problematic area of my skin, and I push him away.

We’re both frozen at that, looking at each other in disbelief. My heartbeat is ringing in my ears and we’re gasping for breath. He looks disheveled and I’m sure I’m not much better off. I can still feel every patch of my skin that his mouth has touched, burning painfully in contrast with the sudden chill setting over me.

“Wh… What’s wrong?” Percy says breathlessly after an eternity.

“Are you doing this out of pity?”

He stares at me, dumbfounded, with his eyes widened and his mouth open. Then he shuts his mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” I don’t know why I’m saying this. I don’t know why I’m asking questions when everything I’ve ever wanted is being handed to me on a silver platter. I don’t know why I ruined what could’ve been the most beautiful moment -  _ evening _ , maybe - in my life. But I have to know.

Percy sits up, legs folded under him, and makes a strangled noise, still looking at me. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Awfully convenient, isn’t it?” I can’t stop the words. I just can’t. “You know how I feel about you. Then you’re trying to convince me to move in with you, ‘cause poor Monty just needs to be protected from himself, doesn’t he? And when I don’t say yes right way-”

“Shut up.  _ Shut up! _ ”

I’ve never seen him look this hurt before. His face is contorted, mouth hanging open and brow furrowed as he’s studying me, trying to see if I’m joking. But I’m not, and he knows that. An unspeakable weariness settles over him. He rubs one eye with the palm of his hand. His voice sounds strained. “Not everything is  _ about you _ , Monty-”

“You’re not answering my question.”

He lowers his hand and looks me dead in the eye, expression growing unreadable. “Get out,” he says, so quietly it scares me. “ _ Now _ .”

The night is buzzing through my head like a disturbed nest of hornets as I drive home. I pass through every red light I see, slam the car door, front door, and my bedroom door close behind me, and let myself fall down onto my bed. I feel like crying or throwing something out of the window - perhaps myself. Maybe a combination of all of the above. My heartbeat is deafening, a wounded sound that only grows louder the harder I try to ignore it. I realize I’m still wearing Percy’s sweater, take it off and throw it across the room far too forcefully.

In my bathroom, I try splashing some water across my face. My reflection in the mirror looms over me, and straightening my spine suddenly feels impossible. I take a deep breath, and face myself.

I look bloody awful. I’m pale, my hair is all over the place - not in the attractive way - and to top it off, my neck is splattered with distinctive red marks. I rub at them, to no avail. Then I notice something around the edges of the bandages across my chest. The skin visible there is starting to look worse, and black lines are curling out from underneath, wrapping themselves around my neck and shoulders. When I throw off my shirt, I see the same is happening on my stomach as well. Filthy vines crawling over my torso and upper arms, looking like they’re seconds away from choking me.

I run out of the room and dive into my wardrobe, frantically going through layers of clothes until I find another shirt and a different sweater to put on - one that’s entirely my own - and hide under my blankets.

When I wake up again, it’s to a faint throbbing that I can’t quite attribute to a single spot. My face feels stuffed and it’s hard to open my eyes. I forgot to shut the blinds last night and the sunlight is merciless. Almost feels like it’s burning me.

Memories of last night seep in slowly like blood from a wound. I let them, for a while, doing something that can only be described as  _ wallowing in self pity _ .

I don’t know what day it is. I barely know where I am. I don’t particularly care.

I’m woken from my self loathing by three short knocks on my door. “Monty?” Felicity’s voice sounds muffled. “Are you there?”

I’m perfectly quiet.

“I’ve lost one of my school books and just so you know: if you’ve taken it, I swear I’m gonna kill you.”

That veritably puts a smile on my face. I almost consider replying, but she continues: “Also, Father’s looking for you.”

And my veins turn back to ice.

I get a strange sensation in my left hand - one that cannot be described as  _ painful _ right away, but soon becomes that. I turn my head. Right away I want to jump back, which is rather difficult since it’s my own body I’m trying to jump back from.

The skin on my hand has gotten a faint purple tint, with little black flecks all over. My veins and knuckles are bulging out as my hands spasms without my meaning to, fingers distorting and clawing. I let out a yelp, and put my still normal hand in front of my mouth to stifle it.

To no avail.

“...Monty?” Felicity’s voice sounds. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” I call back, though my voice alone gives away that I am, in no way, fine.

“Are you hurt?”

“No!”

“I’m coming in.” She starts turning the doorknob, and all that goes through my head is  _ I can’t let her see me like this _ . I’m panicking, and shout: “No don’t I’m naked!”

The door is abruptly closed again. “For God’s sake, Monty,” Felicity says. “It’s noon.”

“And?”

I can veritably hear the eye roll in her voice. “Ugh. I don’t care.”

Her footsteps become more and more distant, until I can hear them going down the stairs and it’s quiet again. I let out a breath in relief. Relief, that instantly turns back into panic, when I accidentally catch sight of my deformed left hand again. It’s connected to the rest of the horror show my body has become by one of the vines that originated at my heart last night. I try to keep it as far away from me as possible, which is, sadly, not very far.

I spend the morning - noon - pacing my room, trying to figure out what to do. I genuinely consider calling Percy to ask him for advice, until I remember that we’re at odds. Then I still quickly check my phone to see if he’s left any messages of remorse, but find none, which flares my anger again.  _ Fine. I don’t need him. I can deal with this on my own. _

I carefully sneak through the house, then lock myself in the bathroom where I last found bandages. I wrap up my hand the best I can, search my wardrobe for the sweater with simultaneously the longest sleeves and the highest collar, and make way to lunch as if everything is perfectly normal.

“What did you do to your hand?”

I hadn’t even spotted Felicity behind the giant book she’s got in front of her, and I start. “Broke it,” is the first thing that comes to mind, as I sit down and realize I’m not hungry at all.

“You’ve not broken your hand,” she sighs, which I find a very prompt statement to make without having examined my hand in the first place.

“How would you know?”

“Let me look at it, then.”

“No.”

“If you’re so sure it’s broken, then what’s the problem?”

“You’ll probably damage it more.”

“I’m studying to become a doctor!”

“Doesn’t mean you’re actually any good at it.”

Her expression, which has been slightly peeved at most until this point, turns deeply insulted. She stands up. “How’d you know?” Her voice is as sharp as a razor’s edge. “When’s the last time you showed interest into anyone but yourself?”

Percy’s face from the night before suddenly flashes in front of my mind’s eye, the memory rearing up out of nowhere.

I realize I’m staring at her dumbfounded, so I sit up and say back, equally sharp: “Maybe everyone else just isn’t interesting enough.”

She shakes her head, a perfect mirror of the weariness in Percy’s eyes. “Screw you, Henry,” she says. She shuts her book at leaves me alone.

Alone, alone, alone.

I feel my veins pulling and roll up my sleeve. The purple tint is expanding over my arm, and where I touch it, it feels less like skin and more like stone. Moving my hand is becoming increasingly difficult. I don’t wait around to watch, just pull down my sleeve and try to breathe. Swallowing is becoming difficult. I wipe my mouth with my right hand, and a sharp pain goes through it. I pull back, and notice I’ve cut it on something. I frown. I run my tongue along my teeth, and I’m met with the exact same stabbing feeling.

I grab the nearest silver tray, tilting it so all the biscuits piled on top fall off, and look at my reflection, baring my teeth. They’re growing sharp and curved as I watch.

I drop the tray as if I’ve burned myself, pressing my lips together as if that might help. I’m trembling and my head is swimming as if I’m falling and am about to faint any second now.

I don’t even notice the person coming in behind me over my heartbeat.

“Henry,” my Father says. “I’d like a word.”

I’m standing in his office, doing my best not to pass out. My Father is staring out of the window, his back to me, and is taking his time to start on a lecture on whatever I’ve done wrong this time. I’m digging deep, agonizing my brain as I try to remember what it could be. Is it about skipping school? I’ve always done that, why should that suddenly be a problem? Something else? By God, I can barely remember what I’ve done this week.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve called you here to speak about, Henry?” Father asks. It’s a trick question, I know it, but I have no choice but to reply. I’m struggling to piece together a sentence, trying to remember a word of English, but the ringing in my ears has become so deafening I can barely hear myself think. I’m then even further distracted by my right hand, as it now also begins to deform.

I feel a shift in the light cast from the window. “Henry.”

I stumble a few steps back. I can barely even make out my Father - the light is so bright it reduces him to a silhouette.

“Answer me when I’m speaking to you.”

The threat awakens in his voice, and I whimper, hands moving without my meaning to. I take another step back, and realize my leg has started hurting as well. Everything is bright light, pulsating deafeningly, and I’m so frightened and confused and in pain I forget my own name.

“Henry,” I hear once again, sounding distant. The shadow moves toward me. I turn around and run.

I don’t know how long I’ve been hiding in the dark. I’m curled up, knees to my chest and back to a wall, arms in front of my face. I don’t know how long I’ve been crying. I don’t know if I’m crying. I don’t know where I am, or why I’m here, or who I am. I can’t move. Everything hurts, my heart aching like the open wound it is.

I hear nothing but my heartbeat and my own sobbing.

Footsteps in the darkness. A gasp. Then, a voice I vaguely recognize, hesitatingly: “...Monty?”

I try to look up, but I can’t. I’m stuck, and terrified, and I can’t even run or protect myself.

“Oh, God, Monty.”

The person comes closer, slowly, as if they’re approaching a scared animal. I see a vague shape in my peripheral, then legs when they stand in front of me, then a face when he kneels down.

“What happened to you?” Percy asks, and his voice is so genuinely concerned and void of any blame that I start to cry.

I sob, then I feel embarrassed for crying in front of him, which doesn’t help so much as rather make me cry harder. Percy moves closer. I see his hands wavering as he’s trying to figure out how to hug me. I’m mostly spikes and rock now, stuck to the ground and wall behind me, and I don’t think he’d be able to touch me without hurting himself.

_ How very fitting. _

Percy still reaches out a hand and gently places it upon my cheek. I’m so startled by the warmth his skin emits that I stop crying and look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” I say. My voice sounds like rocks grinding together and moving my jaw is difficult. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t-”

“Shhh. It’s all right. Just take a deep breath.” He places his other hand on my face as well, and relaxing becomes easier.

Percy is still studying me without letting me go, endless warmth in his eyes. “You really had me worried there, you know,” he says, a spooked laugh in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“What do I- Monty. You’ve been missing for three days.”

I blink. I don’t think I’ve blinked in a while. “Oh,” I just say. Then: “How’d you find me?”

He smiles. “Well, this was sort of our spot when we were kids, wasn’t it?”

I nod. Then I frown. “Where’s here?”

“Our treehouse?” he says, waiting for my recognition. “In the woods? We used to play pirates here all the time.”

The memory returns to me. “Ah, yes.” My voice starts to sound more like my own. “Two Tooth the Terrible.”

“That’s  _ Captain _ Two Tooth for you.”

I laugh. It catches me off guard, but I can’t stop. At first it’s difficult because I’m still stuck, but as I laugh and Percy laughs with me, bits and pieces of rock start to break off and I can move more freely. My head and shoulders are mostly free now, and I’m peering at him through my crossed arms.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you. I didn’t mean for you to have to pick up the pieces.”

“I don’t  _ have to _ pick up any pieces.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I want to be.”

I look at him. My heartbeat becomes less painful.

He smiles a weary smile at me. “Did you seriously think I’d kiss you out of  _ pity _ ?”

“I mean, you’re definitely the kind of person who’s selfless enough to-”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult-”

“It’s neither!”

‘-but I’m really not.”

“Then why did you?”

He gently runs his fingers along the side of my face. I can feel thorns breaking off as he goes, exposing normal, soft skin. “You really haven’t figured it out by now?”

This is something I’d normally expect my heart rate to skyrocket at, but I’m feeling calmer and calmer. I lower my arms, resting them. “I’d still like to hear you say it.”

He’s pressing his lips together, but they still curl into a smile. “I love you, Monty. That’s why. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

And it’s as though he with those simple words heals me completely.

I don’t know what to say. “Pretty poor taste you’ve got there.”

“Hey!”

He gives me a light shove, and I break off a few more spikes and rocks as I go. I’m chuckling, and so is he.

“That’s the first thing you have to say to me?” he asks, teasingly.

“Yes.”

He takes my hands in his. They’re perfectly ordinary again, save for some bruises and lines that reflect golden in the meek light falling in. “All right,” he says. “You asked me to say it. So I’d like you to return the favor.”

“Come on. You already know how I feel.”

“Still.”

“All right then. I…” I take a deep breath. “I love you, Perce. More than anything in the world, I… I’m crazy about you. I don’t know how I’d have made it to this point without you. I don’t know why you put up with me, but-”

“I already told you.”

“You’re interrupting my confession!”

“Sorry!”

“Now I’ve lost the thread.”

“Sorry!”

“But I…” I caress his cheek. “I think you get the point.”

“I do.”

“Would you be interested in kissing me again?”

“Abso-bloody-lutely I would.”

So we do.

“Think you can stand?”

“Worth a try.”

I take his arms as he takes mine. “All right. One, two-”

I break free more easily than I could’ve ever imagined. When I stand, weak on my legs and leaning on Percy, I brush the final debris off of me, then take a look at myself. Normal hands. No more purple teint. My teeth are back to their regular sharpness. I’m shaken, but normal.

I take off my sweater - which is ragged beyond fixing - and look at my chest. I can still vaguely see my heart, but my skin is becoming less transparent under my eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Percy asks.

“Better,” I say, honestly. I rub my head. “A little sore, but I’ll live.”

He beams at me. “Good.”

I frown. “I owe Felicity an apology.”

“For something specific, or, in general?”

I give him a light shove, then let myself fall down against his shoulder. “Definitely one of those things.”

He wraps an arm around me. We’re both staring at the rocks and spikes in a corner. It’s taken over at least half the treehouse.

“Father’s going to be mad at me,” I say quietly.

I feel Percy tense up against me. “My offer still stands, you know.”

I nod. “I know. I just…” I sigh. “Need to think.”

We’re quiet for a while. From the open door, daylight falls in. Soft and yellow and not painful at all. When it hits the mess of rocks, it shimmers. I frown. “What’s that?”

I kneel down - still supported by Percy - and reach out. A piece breaks off in my hand. When I hold it into the light, it shines brilliantly.

“Crystals,” Percy says breathlessly, and then I see that the whole thing is covered in them. Shimmering in every color of the light.

“Huh,” I say.

And it’s an odd thing to think - that anything beautiful could come out of a mess like this, a mess like  _ me _ . But as I’m sitting there, with the precious stone in my hand and the arms of the boy who’s endlessly more precious than that around me, I think that it could. I think that my heart will continue beating, painlessly because it’s now beating for someone I love. And when it seizes up, I know it’ll be because I’ll be caught off guard sometimes by how beautiful he is, and when it speeds up, I know it’ll be because he’s taken my hand, and when the beating sound lulls me to sleep, I know it’ll be in his arms.

And I’m okay with that.


End file.
